Alcohol
by Playboy-Philanthropist
Summary: Part 2 of the Theme Prompt series. Five months later Draco's in a bar, and who should come in but Ron? PLEASE READ FIRST INSTALLMENT: Suicide FIRST.


"Here's your drink, Mr. Malfoy."

"Thank you, Marcus." I said, taking my second glass of Firewhiskey that night from the bartender. Marcus was about thirty, with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a goatee.

"Is it already the 22nd?" Marcus asked.

I took a long swig of my drink. "Yep."

"Well, your room should be ready for you."

"Thank you, Marcus." I said, draining my glass. "Another."

"Coming right up."

I sighed and spun around on my barstool, scanning the pub. It was only a Monday night so it was pretty barren, save for a few regulars gathered at the back. One of the regulars looked up at me and waved.

"Hey, Draco!"

"Hey, Allister. How're you doing?"

"Ah, y'know, same old, same old. What about you? 22nd already, eh?"

I nodded solemnly. Allister gave me a sympathetic look. I shrugged and he turned back to his friends. Turning back around I accepted my drink from Marcus. I took a long drink, relishing in the burn in the back of my throat as I swallowed. I stared down at the wood of the bar, tracing the grain with my eyes. I had just begun to get lost in the pattern of the grain when I felt a blast of chilly air. I shivered and looked up to see a tall man with scraggly ginger hair. I stared in shock as a surprisingly buff Ron Weasley slid onto a barstool at the end of the bar.

"What can I get you, sir?" Marcus asked him politely.

"Just a beer, please. Whatever you have on tap."

"Coming right up."

I ducked my head and watched Ron out of the corner of my eye. I hadn't spoken to the bloke since graduation and today was not a day that I wished to reconcile our friendship. The anniversary of Harry's suicide was always to be spent the same way every month; with me getting completely trashed at my favourite pub. I always got so drunk I couldn't Apparate home and I had to spend the night at the inn above the pub, same room every month, for five months.

I knew it wasn't how Harry would've wanted me to spend my life, but I couldn't get over the resounding guilt over his death. If only I had apologized when I wanted to. If only I hadn't been such a coward, maybe Harry would still be here.

I sigh into my Firewhiskey and stole a glance at Ron, who had just received his beer and was now sipping it thoughtfully. Suddenly, he glanced over at me. I quickly dropped my gaze, my heart pounding. I silently prayed to whoever was listening that he didn't see me.

"Draco?" Ron got up and walked toward me. I swore inwardly and lifted my head.

"Hey, Ron. What're you doing in this part of London?"

Ron sighed jamming his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Had to get away. Hermione kicked me out for the night and I need somewhere far away to think."

I nodded, faintly remembering the wedding invitation I look at briefly before throwing it in the trash.

"I understand. I live just on the other side of London. I only come on the 22nd of the month."

Ron nodded understandingly. "That's what me and the Mrs. got in an argument about tonight. She thinks I should be done mourning. She just doesn't understand."

I shifted uncomfortably and finished off my Firewhiskey.

"Another?" Marcus calls out. I nod and in a matter of seconds there's a full glass sitting in front of me.

"How many have you had?" Ron wonders.

"This'll be my fourth." I say before taking a sip.

"Do you come here every month just to get drunk?"

I nod. "To the point that I can't even make it home. Marcus cleans out a room for me."

"That's not very healthy."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Fuck it." I said, taking another drink.

"Well, I might as well rent a room for the night, since I won't be going home tonight."

Marcus approached us. "Room's three galleons a night for a king bed, one for a regular bed."

"I'll take a regular, I guess." Ron said, digging in his pocket for a coin. Marcus took the coin and handed Ron a key.

"Well, I better get up to bed. I'll see you later."

"I watched him walk to the stairs before I stopped him. "Wait, come have a few drinks with me."

"I dunno, I'm tired."

"Oh, come on."

Ron smiled slightly. "Okay, a couple." He said as he joined me at the bar I motion for Marcus to hand him a Firewhiskey.

An hour later, Marcus had cut us both off so Ron and I sat at the bar talking drunkenly. It turned out the Ron had become a healer after marrying Hermione and had taken to working out.

"Man, I'm so drunk." I said as I failed to string a coherent sentence together once again.

Ron didn't answer.

"Hey, man. Y-you okay?"

"I still blame myself."

"For what?"

"Harry's suicide."

A chill settled down my spine and I instantly lost my buzz.

"You were his best friend. He'd never blame you."

"Yes he would." Ron put his head in his hands. "I got in an argument with him that night. I told him…I told him I was tired of his moping. I told him he could be happy if he just tried. He tried to tell me that it wasn't that easy, that he was in deep. I didn't listen."

"That's not your fault."

"It is. I practically told him to kill himself. I told him that life isn't worth living if you aren't going to make the most of it. And then he stormed out and never came back. When I heard what he'd done, I wanted to die too. I felt so guilty. I still feel guilty.

I sighed. "I blame myself too. I told him I didn't want to see him ever gain. That he disgusted me. It wasn't true, but at the time I thought he had cheated on me. I wasn't thinking clearly. When I found out it was all a misunderstanding, I wanted to apologize, get back together. But I thought he hated me. I was scared, so I waited. I wanted to tell him that day. I almost did but I got interrupted and never got the chance." I sighed again. Ron patted me on the back.

"I won't blame you if you don't blame me." He said, holding out his hand.

"Deal." I took his hand and we shook smiling.

Ron sighed. "Well, that's all fine and dandy, but I've still got Hermione to worry about. All we do is fight, and I sleep on the couch most nights."

"Do you love her?" I asked.

"I do, I'm just…" He trailed off. "I guess I'm just not sure if it's _that way_ anymore."

I nodded sympathetically.

Ron looked up at me, seriousness reflecting in his eyes. "If I tell you something, promise not to laugh or get awkward?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Sometimes I question…how much I really like girls."

I blinked. "Well, I mean, I can't tell you whether or not you like girls. You have to figure that out for yourself."

"I know, I just, I need time to think, but I don't want to string Hermione along only to end up having to tell her I can't be with her because I prefer dick."

"Understandable." I nodded.

"I think I'm going to go to bed and think about this for a while."

"Okay. Goodnight, Ron."

Ron began walking toward the stairs, but stopped halfway there and turned back.

"I had fun, Draco. This is the first time in five months I've had fun on this day."

I smiled. "Me too, Ron."

Ron smiled and continued his way up the stairs. I took a deep breath and laid my head on the bar.

"Hey, Draco. That guy, he a friend of yours?" Marcus asked.

"Sort of. He was Harry's best friend."

Marcus nodded and began wiping down the bar. I stood and stretched my arms and legs.

"Good night, Marcus."

"Good night, son."

I made my way up the stairs to my usual room, fumbling with the lock. Once the door was open I stumbled tiredly into the room and closed the door before collapsing on the king bed and falling asleep almost instantly.


End file.
